


my path, my home, my star

by Linnea_Ancalime



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (also i really like my semicolons & em dashes and i am not the least bit sorry), Cuddling & Snuggling, Eventual Fluff, F/F, F/M, Holding Hands, Kissing, Other, also a bunch of flies seen from far away if any of y'all are squicked by that, happens sometime between The Tsuranga Conundrum and The Battle Of Ranskoor Av Kolos, nonbinary reader, reader wears glasses, the fam are essential to the adventuring because i'm love them, they/them pronouns for reader, this is three chapters of adventuring and one chapter of cuddling, wish fulfillment fic where you get to travel the universe and be gay, with space travel and a ton of beautiful scenery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:48:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25746907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linnea_Ancalime/pseuds/Linnea_Ancalime
Summary: You've been travelling with the Doctor and her fam for a little while now, and today it's your turn to choose the destination.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Reader, Thirteenth Doctor/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37





	1. Pick A Planet

**Author's Note:**

> finally got around to editing & proofreading this!!! i haven't been on the 13th discord much recently, still love y'all legends. this one's for you! :3
> 
> (if you're only here for the cuddling session and not for the fantastic adventures i cooked up, skip directly to chapter 4 (but i promise the adventures are also good hehe))

“So where are we going today?” Yaz asks cheerfully as the both of you waltz into the TARDIS, exactly one week after the Doctor dropped you off back home for what she’d called “a little break”.

Speaking of, the Doctor finishes flipping a long row of switches and whirls around.

“I don't know! Did you have something in mind?”

Your memories hadn’t lied to you while you were away: her smile really is dazzling — the way it lights up her whole face, her eyes and voice so warm and friendly… you’re at a loss for words. You enjoyed the break, and doing normal human things with your friends, but you’re realising how dearly you’d missed her.

“I think it's (Y/N)'s turn to pick,” says Ryan.

Yaz nods. “Hope you get us somewhere cool for your first time choosing!”

“I'm sure they will,” Graham says with a smile.

Your words come back to you at that. “Yeah! I've actually given this a lot of thought.” You take a deep breath and launch into your explanation with many a gesture. “I think I'd like a planet with lots of mountains, but it'd need to have soft slopes and large paths because I don't really do too well with heights and stuff. And, uh, if the sky isn't blue that's a nice bonus, but I think maybe that would narrow it down too much so it's also okay if it's blue!”

You sway a little in your excitement, slightly out of breath. You hear someone whistle softly, but you aren't sure who; you’ve kept your eyes mostly on the Doctor, taking in how intently she listened to you, that kind smile you love so much never leaving her face as you talked.

She mutters a few noises, deep in thought, then claps — once, suddenly enough that you all jump.

“Oh, I know _just_ the place! Mossklin 3, here we come. It has it all! Mountains, pink skies, nice paths, breathable atmosphere, _lots_ of pretty flowers, you're all going to _love_ it.” She twists a few dials on the console and turns back to you. “Any specific time?”

Excitement fizzes in your chest as you reply that you'd rather leave that to her. You grin at your friends, still not quite believing there _is_ a planet out there just like you wanted to see.

“Any moss on there, Doc?”

You have to laugh, at Graham's joke and at the way the Doctor's face scrunches up in confusion when she says, “No? Well, maybe, but it's not known for its moss, mostly it’s known for its flies that don't eat anything and—why do you ask?”

“ _Moss_ -klin?” Ryan offers. “You know?”

The Doctor rolls her eyes, smiling. “Naaahh, the name's got nothing to do with plant-y moss. I think? I haven't brushed up on my Mossklian botany in a while. Anyway, we'll see for ourselves soon enough!” Holding three buttons down at once, she flips a row of switches. “Okay, she's all set!”

You join her at the console, impatient to see your chosen destination. She takes your hand, gently places it on what you privately refer to as the let's-go-lever, and asks, “Want to do the honours?”

“Oh,” you breathe, squeezing the lever to steady yourself. “I'd love it if we did it all together?”

You feel your face heat up, and hope you’re not blushing too visibly, or Yaz and Ryan will tease you endlessly later; nevermind that you've already admitted to the massive crush you have on the Doctor. (To them, at least. For obvious reasons, you haven’t told _her_.)

“Can do! Fam, come here,” she calls, and your friends follow.

She smiles eagerly as all of you pull the lever together, sending the TARDIS flying to Mossklin 3; when you smile back, her eyes crinkle in mirth, filling you with warmth.

* * *

When you step out of the TARDIS, you can’t help letting out a wordless exclamation of delight, whole body wiggling and hands flapping in excitement.

“It's so _pretty_!”

The sky looks like an impressionist painting, countless shades of pink from pastel to near-purple swirling around above your head, outlining the numerous mountains — some bare, some dotted with trees — that surround you. You squint, trying to see in the distance (you really need to update your prescription), and make out what seems to be large, well-defined dirt paths gently swirling their way up the mountains. Looking around, you see the TARDIS is parked among _many_ flowers, which frame the paths in rainbows of colours.

You turn to the Doctor and hug her tight, still rocking on your feet.

“Thank you, thank you _so much_!” you tell her and, giddy with excitement, you stand on tiptoe and kiss her cheek.

“Blimey! Didn't know Mossklin 3 was going to make such a big impression!” the Doctor laughs. She pulls away from the hug but keeps close, holding both your hands. Wait—is she blushing?

You chalk that up to your own wishful thinking, and turn to your other friends, still bouncing.

“Which way do you want to go?”

The three of them look at each other, until Yaz says what everyone else seems to be thinking: “Your planet, your pick!”

She looks pointedly at your hands where they’re joined with the Doctor's, then back at you, raising her eyebrows. You stick your tongue out at her.

Oblivious (probably) to this little scene, the Doctor lets go of your hands and spins around, pointing at the horizon. “Heard there was a museum about a mile that way, natural sciences, but I never bothered checking it out. Might be a good place to start! Are we on?”

“Works for me!” You take a step to stand next to her. “What do y'all think?”

Ryan makes a non-committal noise. “It better be more interesting than when we went to that museum with the school. That was proper boring.”

“Oh, come on, son. Museum outing, it'll be educational!” Graham says, beginning to walk.

Yaz follows along. “I'm with Ryan on this one. The most exciting thing that happened that day was someone lost their lunchbox, I found it, and got free sandwiches.”

Ryan splutters, indignant. “Hey, the lunchbox—that was me! _You_ ate my sandwiches!”

“You got the rest back, didn't you? I gave the box to one of the teachers!”

“Yeah, _after_ you'd helped yourself to my food!”

“Listen, if any of you want a sandwich, I've got everything you need right here,” Graham says, patting his coat.

“Thanks but not now, Gramps.” Ryan gives an exaggerated sigh. “My sandwiches are lost to time and Yaz now, there's no bringing them back.”

“Well,” you start, feeling mischievous. “We have a time machine—”

“Oi! _No_. Bad suggestion, (Y/N), if I thought you were serious I'd be really disappointed. Ryan, no messing around with your own timeline, not even for sandwiches,” the Doctor scolds; but she’s smiling as she does.

You and your friends keep on chatting and joking all the way to your destination; and you’re not too sure how it happens, but by the time you get your first glimpse of the building, you’re holding the Doctor’s hand again.


	2. Flies At The Museum

Graham comes to a halt at the top of the hill.

“Doc, I don't mean to alarm you, but is the building supposed to move like that?” he asks.

The Doctor takes one look at it and immediately holds her arms out to stop the rest of you.

“No, it's _really_ not supposed to do that. Stay back.”

She reaches into her coat pocket and takes her sonic screwdriver out, you assume to analyse the whirling mass that swarms where the museum was supposed to be. Watching it feels like watching TV static, except the buzzing is much louder. The faintest of headaches begins to take root somewhere deep in your skull; you see Yaz rub her temple and pat her on the arm in sympathy.

You watch anxiously as the Doctor examines her readings in a somewhat less confident manner than usual.

“Why am I getting so many signals? What's wrong here? I've seen pictures before and that buzzing cloud was never in them!”

She scrunches up her face in thought and your heart does a little somersault in spite of your unease; considering the circumstances, you try to stop focusing on how _cute_ she is.

“Hey, maybe I'm wrong, but it kinda sounds like bugs? See how they move, and with the buzzing and all? Could be flies.”

Bless Ryan for giving you something else to think about. Even if that’s a massive cloud of noisy _flies_.

“You did say Mossklin was known for its flies! At least they won't eat us,” Yaz jokes.

The Doctor's face lights up (and you silently thank Ryan again, for completely different reasons this time).

“Yes, that makes total sense with the readings I'm getting! Smart Ryan. Of course they're flies! Now what I want to know is, how long have they been here and why?” She fiddles with the settings on her screwdriver. “Mossklian flies don't typically gather in such numbers, so there must've been _something_ to bring them all here, maybe their pattern can tell me…”

She trails off and points her screwdriver at the flies again. It starts to make a noise, you catch a brief glimpse of a flash, and next thing you know someone’s yelling _Duck! Behind the hill!_ and pushing you to the ground and you find yourself sliding down the path you'd walked up not two minutes ago, hearing Yaz shout somewhere to your left, close.

Thankfully the slope isn’t very steep, and you come to a stop rather quickly. Shaking, you feel for your glasses on your face and are relieved to find them still there all in one piece.

Then someone—no, wait, you know that voice. Graham, that’s your friend Graham groaning in the background, bringing you back to the present and to the awareness that you’re squished against the ground by something—no, someone, a soft (!) someone whose breath stirs your hair, whose hearts (!!) thump against your own chest—you reflexively cling to her with both arms, even as she pulls you up into a sitting position, and you bury your face in her neck, breathing her in. Even then, you’re aware of how much you love the smell of her, a coppery tang with just a hint of vanilla; it’s all so _her_.

Then she starts talking and you focus on her voice instead of your thoughts.

“Oh, I'm really, really sorry! My fault. New settings, they're still unpredictable at times, and apparently that setting in particular needs refining 'cause no matter what it shouldn't be able to make things _explode_ , but the flies exploded, and long story short I _really_ miscalculated there. Sorry.”

You feel as much as hear her take a deep breath before she asks, “Is everyone all right?”

You peer through the strands of blonde hair and see Ryan nodding, while Yaz announces that she’s fine apart from the headache. Graham has more to say.

“Well, my old bones aren't happy with that stunt we just pulled, but better that than exploding with the building. Speaking of which, shouldn't we be deaf after an explosion that loud?” he asks, pointing at his ear.

“Oh, yes, that would be the Mossklin nanobots! Nice work, these bots. They're very quick, upon detecting the explosion they'll have lessened the impact of the sound waves _and_ gone on to repair the damage to your eardrums! Thankfully these are advanced, they've been programmed to download info on species they don't know, they won’t improvise like the ones I saw in London during the Blitz. Now that one was a ride,” she cheerfully informs her audience.

“Nanobots during the Blitz? You're kidding,” Ryan exclaims.

“Eh, it's a long story.” From the way she pronounces that last syllable, you _know_ she’s scrunching up her face.

At this point, you’ve almost forgotten you exist, until you hear her say your name.

“Are you all right?” she asks, placing her hands on your shoulders and gently pushing you back. You’re looking up into her eyes—hazel, glittery, deep, and above all concerned.

You give yourself a mental shake. “Yeah, just had a bit of a scare, felt disoriented for a while.” Seeing the worry crease near her eyebrow, you hasten to add, “I'm all right now!”

You squeeze her one more time and let her go; she jumps up and helps you up. You debate whether to keep holding her hand, and she puts an end to that by twining her fingers with yours (!). You’re equal parts surprised and thrilled, and shoot a warning glance at Yaz, who you could swear has just snorted.

You and your friends make your way back to the top of the hill. You’re surprised to see, stripped of its buzzing cloud, the building — lightly smoking, but still standing.

“Guess you only got the flies,” Ryan says.

The Doctor nods, her expression thoughtful.

“Yes, that's the nanobots. They couldn't act fast enough to save any flies, but they managed to absorb enough damage that the building's fine. I'd like to check out the rest of it, though, make sure it's still structurally sound.” She takes a step towards it and pauses, pursing her lips. “You should probably go back to the TARDIS where it's safer?”


	3. Glass And Metal

Of course, no one wants to pass up the opportunity to explore what seems to be an intact alien museum, and in spite of your earlier fright you rush ahead of everyone, eager to see what your planet of choice has to offer.

You make it to the museum and, not noticing any damage on the outside walls, you enter through the front door.

It takes barely a second for you to feel the _heat_ — on your skin and through the soles of your shoes. Shocked and oppressed, you shoot back out, barrelling into the Doctor. Her familiar scent of copper and vanilla instantly makes you feel safer on some probably-subconscious level, but seeing as this isn’t a good time for smitten epiphanies, you file the thought away for later.

“Woah—” you both say at the same time. She lets go and motions for you to continue.

“Sorry. Sorry, it's just—it's so _hot_ in there, I'm not sure it's safe to—” You cut yourself off in panic when you notice smoke rising from your shoes. “What do I do?!”

The Doctor reacts fast. She points her sonic at your shoes, which somehow cuts through the double knot of your laces, and urges you to remove them (“I'll lend you a pair, at a guess we're the same size!” — and here’s _another_ thought to file away for later). You yank your still-smoking shoes off your feet, cringing inwardly: good, sturdy hiking boots don’t come cheap, and you’re not sure this pair is salvageable.

Still, you enjoy how soft the path feels underneath your now shoeless feet, and how confident the Doctor sounds when she says, “We need better tech before we get back in there. Hold on, I'm summoning the TARDIS here, remote control, took me _way_ too many faces to get around to it, but! It _is_ a feature now—” and the ship vworps into existence in front of you.

After a brief interlude of stashing your still-smoking shoes away in a hidden cryobox near the console, borrowing a pair of boots, and rummaging through rooms for heat-resistant equipment (in this case, patches that “shield the wearer from heat and also create a contained oxygen field”), you find yourself staring at the museum door, which you left open in your haste to get out.

The Doctor claps her hands. “All right, fam, let's do it properly this time!”

She enters the building, holding her sonic out, the four of you in tow.

“Isn't that dangerous?” Graham asks. “The sonic, I mean.”

“Nah, this time I've made _absolutely_ sure any explodey settings are turned off. I'm just scanning, it's very safe,” the Doctor replies. “Just don't touch anything until I'm done.”

Graham nods, but you’re not sure he’s fully convinced.

The Doctor begins to scan the room, slowly making her way around the various display cases. You and your friends stay behind her, careful not to brush against anything, and occasionally point out stuff you think looks cool.

Now that you’re shielded from the heat, you have time to admire the inside of the building. As far as you can tell, it’s only this one room: square, very spacious, with a very high ceiling made of glass and a metal tower in the centre that almost reaches it. Slightly lower above your heads, on each side of the room, is a suspended balcony. Walkways connect all four sides, reaching towards the tower — a machine of some kind? — and forming a circle around it.

The top of the machine is a glass cylinder, and you see shiny little things floating in it. Intrigued, you squint to get a better view; the things look spherical, but you can’t tell much more from so far away.

“What's that for? The machine, I mean.”

The Doctor gives it a glance and looks at you over her shoulder, sonic still scanning.

“Not sure yet! Could be many things. I'll tell you when I figure it out.”

“How do we access those balconies?” Yaz asks. “There might be more stuff up there.”

The Doctor points to her left. “See the glowing blue tiles in the corners? They're short-range teleports.”

“Like lifts,” Graham ventures.

“Like lifts!” the Doctor confirms. “We'll take them in a minute. I just need a bit more data from down here.”

Once she’s done, you make your way up there and stop right next to the machine, in front of what you decide is a control panel. The Doctor plugs her sonic into the side, prompting a holographic projector to display the results of her scans. She braces herself with both hands on the panel.

“All right, gang, what have we got? Hmm.” She leans closer to the projection, brow furrowing. “Nanobots—hold on, that's a lot more nanobots than average, _and_ there's a ton of leftover radiation from a spike two weeks ago? Strange.”

“Hold on a sec—radiation?” Ryan exclaims.

Graham seems disquieted. “That's bad news, isn't it?”

The Doctor waves a reassuring hand. “Don't worry, the patches act as a radiation shield. And even if _they_ didn't, the nanobots would. But! The question is, why are there more of them than usual here? There's no one here but us, and that's now, they were already here in numbers before, why would they be—oh!”

By now, you know that cadence and smile. She's just figured something out, and you’re eager for the animated explanation that usually follows.

You’re not disappointed. You really love seeing her like this, making confident gestures, pacing around in controlled excitement, vibrant, _alive_.

“All right! First things first, I forgot to mention, radiation spots are common on Mossklin 3 — now, don't look at me like that, Graham, they're usually _stable_ radiation spots in fixed locations, we weren't _supposed_ to find an abnormal spike like this one right here! — and I didn't realise earlier, but I think Mossklian flies feed off the radiation somehow and that's how they thrive even though they never seem to eat anything.” She pauses for breath.

Yaz asks, “So you're saying the flies were attracted by that radiation spike?”

Your heart skips a beat at the way the Doctor smiles just now. “Yes, that's it! Gold star for you, Yaz. Where was I? Right, then the nanobots came in record numbers to try and protect the flies because they know living organisms aren't meant to be exposed to such massive amounts of radiation, and the area was so unstable that even an otherwise innocuous scan was enough to set everything on fire.” She cringes a little at that. “I'm really thankful so many nanobots were already here, or that explosion would have been a lot nastier.”

Unlike you (still mesmerised by the Doctor's animated explanations), Yaz has enough brain cells left to ask, “Why's it still so hot in here, if the nanobots took care of the explosion?”

“The nanobots can remove oxygen to prevent combustion, but they can't get rid of the heat. It'll have to dissipate naturally.”

“What about the radiation, Doc? Can't we at least do anything about that?” The Doctor opens her mouth to speak and Graham hurriedly carries on. “I know, I know, _we're_ safe from it, but other people might not be.”

“No, you're right. I need to think,” she says, turning her back to the machine and leaning against the railing.

You glance at her, and when you look away the maze of artefacts below catches your eye. You feel an idea form in your brain. “We're in a museum… maybe there's something here that can help?”

The Doctor leans forward; her eyes widen and she rewards you with a broad smile.

“Oh, you're _brilliant_. Yes, there _is_ something here than can help” — she gestures to the glass cylinder behind her — “and I have an idea!”

She explains things as she goes, fiddling with the control panel and her screwdriver, occasionally rushing back to tap on the glass cylinder.

“I can use the nanobots and that machine — by the way, (Y/N), you asked earlier, it's a sort of, thing, it does measurements, think… weather station, but not just for weather — anyway, see those marbles? They're mostly silver-telmonium alloy, which means we can store all the excess radiation in there if I just tell the nanobots how to do it!”

She leans forward to undo the latch on a glass panel, letting the metal marbles float out slowly and rearrange themselves into a ring around the cylinder; she sonics them and goes back to the control panel.

“Okay, now to tell you bots what to do with these…”

She inputs a few command lines with the keyboard, fully opening the air vents and front door. The expectation in her gaze, coupled with the way she’s braced on the control panel, has you holding your breath in anticipation yourself.

At first, it looks like nothing’s going to happen; then she lets go of the control panel to brace herself on the railing instead. You follow her gaze and see glowing threads form all around the room, converging on the cylinder from every opening.

“See? They're redirecting all the excess radiation into the marbles!”

She looks so enthusiastic and it’s so communicative, you think you understand what the Victorians meant with their talk of “vapours”.

You and your friends gather closer to watch. The marbles begin to change colour: slowly at first, then faster and faster, cycling through every colour you know how to name and then some. After a moment each fixates on a single shimmering colour; no two look the same.

The Doctor scans the room once more and grins, obviously pleased with the results.

“There, that's it, I think we're done! No more radiation except in there,” she says, indicating the floating ring of marbles. “I'll warn the locals, let them handle safe disposal.”

“Can I keep one as a souvenir?” you ask, reaching for the closest one.

“Wait!” The Doctor swiftly pulls your hand away by the wrist. “What did I just say about safe disposal! They're not safe to handle directly, hold on.” Adorable scronch on her face, she rummages through her pockets. “Oh, where _is_ it—there!”

She pulls something out of her coat and holds it out for you to see: it’s a transparent, hollow cube, with the top side missing and an opaque circle etched into one of the sides.

“This box is a little marvel of Nestene technology! Put something in it, press that button there, and it'll fill up with instant-dry resin around the thing you just put in. Should keep you completely safe from any lingering radiation.”

She presses the box into your hand, brushing your thumb with hers. You thank her with a large smile; your heart beats fast as you lean over the railing to catch a turquoise marble with the cube.

On the way out, as you admire your treasure, the way the marble inside the resin catches the light, you think that you’ll cherish this memory of your trip _forever_.


	4. Après l'effort, le réconfort

When the local authorities came to remove the radiation marbles, they gave your group official thanks as well as premium invitations to the Mossklian Centennial of Harmony, which you’re planning on travelling to as soon as you’ve had some sleep (“perks of a time machine”, you all agreed).

After so much excitement, you were glad to be back inside the TARDIS. Still, you weren’t keen on _sleeping_ right away, and kept hovering in the console room well after the rest of the fam had said their goodnights.

You’re still trying to figure out why sleep seems so unappealing when the Doctor's voice jostles you out of your thoughts.

“Not sleeping yet?” she’s asking, sitting cross-legged on the floor, stealing quick glances at you while she tinkers with the console. “Thought you'd be tired.”

“Not really feeling like sleep just now. I'm a little tired, but…”

You shrug, not really knowing how to explain. You’re more interested in what she’s doing than in figuring it out.

You join her, carefully leaning against the console, and watch her work for a while. She’s quieter than usual, but it’s not the kind of quiet that has you worried she’s upset or scared; if anything, you enjoy the companionable silence.

Still, you feel that such an eventful trip deserves more than a mere goodnight. You struggle to find your words, rehearse several sentences in your head, and settle on a hesitant “I wanted to say… Thank you _so much_. For the trip, and the planet, and just… everything, really.”

“Really? Even though your shoes burned through and we nearly got irradiated?” She stands up with a smile, pushing her hair away from her face (which leaves a smudge of grease on her cheek that you briefly think about kissing away), and sets down her wrench.

You can’t help but smile back. Although you did mourn your shoes — the soles turned out to be unfixable — the Doctor promised to let you keep the pair you borrowed from her, so you’re pretty happy with the trade-off.

“Yes! Life's been much more exciting since you took me on board.” You suppress a yawn and add, “More tiring, too, I suppose, but I wouldn't have it any other way.”

“I'm glad you came,” she replies. She removes her gloves, sets them down on top of the wrench, and squeezes your shoulder briefly; you don’t think she notices how her touch affects you. “It's been more exciting with you around for me too—that was a _lovely_ idea for a trip!”

“But… that was mostly _your_ idea,” you remind her, perplexed. “I didn't even know Mossklin 3 existed before you told us about it.”

She huffs a little and shakes her head.

“Of course not, but your description was _perfect_. Very imaginative. I knew that planet, have known it for ages really, but I wouldn't have thought of visiting it today if not for you!” Her hands fly out of her pockets, wrapping around yours. “And I had a really, really, _really_ good time. Explosions and all,” she says, looking into your eyes so, _so_ intently.

You feel your cheeks heat up and don’t know what you’re hoping for the most: that she’ll notice, or that it’s not too obvious. Either way, you nod vigorously, closing your eyes for a moment to shield yourself from her intensity.

“Me too! Also…” you start, and force your eyes open again, “thank you again for the souvenir. It's really cool,” you say, and immediately wish you'd used a better word.

She doesn’t seem to mind at all. If anything, the way she beams at you just then has you thinking you were on the right track, even more so when she perks up and says, “Want to see _more_ cool things?”

“Only if I don't have to go out again so soon,” you blurt out without thinking.

She laughs. “Well then, I have _just_ the thing. We can even stay parked! Just need to turn around a bit.”

She sets things up on the console and skips towards the outside doors, pulling you along.

You feel as if everything is in slow motion, not quite believing that you’re alone with the Doctor and she wants to share things with you, just you. You love the rest of the fam and going on adventures with them, obviously, but it’s not Graham or Ryan or even Yaz you have a massive crush on.

The Doctor opens the door and sits down, legs dangling off the edge; she pats the space next to her.

“Sit with me?”

The way she looks up at you at that moment, hopeful smile on her face, you would have given her anything she asked for. You’re more than happy to sit down, close enough that your thigh touches hers.

When you manage to tear your eyes off her, you’re treated to a wonderful view of Mossklin 3, its pink atmosphere and mountains and even some of the largest paths visible from orbit.

“It's really pretty from up here!” you say, and shiver in what you assume is wonder.

Another shiver comes, and you think maybe you’re actually feeling cold. The Doctor must have noticed faster than you did, because you’ve barely finished that thought, but she’s already pulled her left arm out of her coat and wrapped that side of it around you. She rests her left hand on your waist, holding the coat closed around you both with her right.

You let your head fall on her shoulder, heart pounding so hard you’re sure she can hear it. You tentatively slide your own arm behind her, pull her in closer; your heart leaps in your throat when she sighs and lets her head settle against yours.

You stay like this a while, enjoying the view and her warm presence. You don’t dare break the silence first, and you’re delighted when she starts telling you interesting facts about Mossklin 3; unconnected details at first, that slowly build a vivid tapestry of the planet's life and history.

She’s in the middle of a rather detailed explanation of the intricate tree care system the Mossklians have developed, when you yawn in spite of yourself. It’s been a very busy day and you’re so comfortable there, listening to her, gazing at the planet in the distance, that it’s no wonder sleep is creeping up on you.

“... but I think we can talk more about that later,” she trails off. “We’ll relocate to a more comfortable room. Come on!”

She gets up. You whine when she takes the coat off you; she snorts and pulls you up with a surprising amount of strength.

She pats the doorframe on your way out and says something to the TARDIS, which you’re too tired to understand. While you follow her through the corridors, she seems to follow her nose, sniffing the air at every junction. Eventually, you get to what you’re pretty sure is the library; except it’s a corner of it that you’ve never visited, with a cosy and rather deep pillow pit on the floor.

“A pillow pit,” you say, dumbfounded.

“Yup.”

“It's really deep.”

“Yup! Really comfy, too, from what I remember.” She grins and gestures to the pillows. “After you!”

You take a few steps, let yourself fall into the pit (softer than you expected), then gather a few pillows for yourself and lie down on your back.

The floor bounces slightly when the Doctor jumps in after you; she lies down next to you, using her coat as a blanket for you both. As sleepy as you are, this still makes your heart skip a few beats, and you can’t stop yourself from grinning.

Your hand seeks hers, finds it. She twines your fingers together and softly brushes her thumb across yours, making you smile.

The tender, rhythmic touch lulls you; warm and relaxed, you eventually put your glasses away and turn to the side to sleep, facing her. She’s watching you, a hint of a smile on her lips.

You think that she’s really, really pretty and that you really, really want to kiss her. Drowsy and very in love, you don’t think to run the idea by the reasonable part of your brain first. You cross the (admittedly short) distance and gently press your lips to hers.

When your brain catches up with you and you realise what you've just done, you pull back and apologise immediately, sleepiness forgotten.

She opens and closes her mouth a few times, then pouts, says “No, I liked that!” and cups your face in her hands to give you a kiss, and another, and another, and then you lose count in your eagerness to kiss back.

Just when you think you couldn't possibly feel more elated, she turns to face you and wraps her leg around you, pulling you closer; a whimper of surprise forces its way out of your lungs.

She pulls back slightly, concern plain in her (very pretty, you notice again, giddy) features.

“Everything all right, there?”

“ _Yeah,_ ” you hurry to say, not wanting her to let go of you any longer than strictly necessary. “YesI'mokay. I just, I uh,” you very eloquently add. “ _Nice_.”

Words clearly aren’t working for you, so instead you take her hand and begin kissing it, her fingers, her palm, her knuckles, each of her fingertips, trying to convey just _how much_ you love her, love her bubbly energy, love her passion for building and making things with these very hands.

Her breath hitches audibly; satisfaction blooms in your chest as she babbles, “Okay, yes, point taken, understood, gotcha, loud and clear!”

She leans in to kiss your forehead, drawing your attention to the smudge of grease on her cheek. Now that you’re actually faced with the prospect of kissing it away, you realise that you don’t want to get grease all over your mouth — _especially_ since you’re planning on kissing her more after — so you figure out another way to deal with it.

“Hold on,” you said, looking into her keen eyes. “Bit of grease from earlier.”

You carefully brush away the grease with your thumb and kiss the spot with tremendous tenderness. You feel her tremble; it’s so light you’d have missed it if you weren’t paying all the attention you have.

She threads her hands through your hair and kisses you delicately, lips parted just enough for your tongues to brush. You deepen the kiss and she responds in kind. Your fingers find the small of her back under her shirt, drawing soft circles over her skin.

After a while she breaks away to kiss your nose, right when you think that you really need air, and you giggle in breathless delight.

“I really liked that,” you both say, at almost the same time — which sends you into another fit of giggles.

You can’t believe how lucky you are to have gotten everything you wanted from this trip _and_ afterwards, in these tender moments alone with the Doctor. You try to tell her that, and again words fail you, so instead you hold her tight and kiss her again.

You completely lose track of time after that. You press kisses everywhere you can, her nose, her cheeks, her hands when you hold them, eyelids, her neck, her willing mouth; your hands roam, not knowing which they prefer — stroking her hair, her face, cupping her cheeks, affectionately rubbing her back, carefully tracing her eyebrows; and through it all you keep her close, legs tangled together. _Finally_ you’re worshipping and loving her like you've dreamt of doing almost since the day you first set foot on the TARDIS, flooded with the exhilarating feeling of being loved and worshipped in return.

As the night grows longer, your eager, passionate kissing gives way to softer nuzzling; eventually you fall asleep with her, warm and safe and content under her coat, wrapped in her arms and the familiar copper-vanilla smell you love so much, like you love everything else about her.

(And it so happens that the day after, with much grumbling on Ryan's part, Yaz ends up 20 pounds richer when the Doctor officially names you her date for the Mossklian Centennial of Harmony.)

**Author's Note:**

> ~~this has only been proofread by me, i've tried to be as thorough and double-check as many things as i could but alas English is not my first language so i probably still missed things. feel free to tell me if u noticed any grammar or spelling or vocab mistakes i promise it is welcome!!!~~
> 
> hope u enjoyed the trip to mossklin 3! :3


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